Beginnings
by RougeJedi15
Summary: Heroes and villains all came from somewhere. Some rose from slaves to Sith, others fell from Commanding General of the entire army to a fugitive. Chronicles the backstories of the main characters of Hunt.


Dri'iaxl Xanze grunted as he swung the pick. Rock chipped off, and he swiped his arm across him forehead.

Korriban offered little comfort for those outside during the day. "Back to work, slave," A sneering voice said, and he glanced over.

The overseer glared at him from his perch in the shade.

"I will when you will," he muttered, swinging again.

A third and forth blow followed, but Dri'iaxl was nearly unaware of it. He was focused solely on the thought of Overseer Sikel suffering.

He swung again, and a sharp pain lanced through his side.

Sikel stood there with the whip, snarling, "Put your back into it!"

Dri'iaxl spun angrily, his fist clenching by his side. "What? You gonna hit me again?"

Sikel stared, shocked that this... this _slave_... would stand up to him.

He stapped forwards, whip raising, and Dri'iaxl lashed out, all of his anger and frustration against the bully behing the one blow.

It never connected. Before it landed, the Overseer was sent crashing back into a cart full of rocks.

Laying on the overturned cart, covered in dirt and dust, Sikel growled angrily, scrambling to find his feet again.

Dri'iaxl stared at his out flung hand in shock, then came back to his senses as the whip left a thin line on his cheek.

He snarled, and lunged, ripping the whip out of Sikel's hand, and hurled it aside. "Never again, worm!" He snapped.

"Slave! Halt!" A Sith was running up, and Dri'iaxl dropped to one knee.

"My Lord."

"What is going on here, Sikel?"

"This slave...This impudent little..." Sikel raged as he stood, brushing dust off his clothes, and saluting.

"He has the gift," A small slave said, Sikel spun, and sent him rolling with a single backhand.

"Silence!"

"Slave, is this true?" The Sith asked, looking at Dri'iaxl.

"Yes, My Lord." Dri'iaxl bowed his head, straightening to look the man in the eye.

Raising an eyebrow, the Sith peered down at Dri'iaxl.

Dri quivered under the intensity, but something in him warned him that looking away, under any circumstances, would be instantly fatal.

"Very well. Come with me." The Sith spun, his bulk causing his cape to flick across Dri'axl's nose.

Dri'iaxl straightened, and brushed some of the dust off of his clothes before rushing to catch up.

"I will get you decent clothes. We are accepting new Apprentices, and I believe that you could be lucky enough to join." Dri'iaxl felt overwhelmed by this, and only managed a "Thank you, my Lord."

The Sith, Lord Soren, smiled grimly.

"Remember this, Dri'iaxl. One day, I may call on you, and you must respond."

Dri'iaxl nodded in understanding.

Soren paused, looking straight at him.

"In three days, the trials will commence. Until then I will guide you. Train you. No one must know that you were once a slave. And if one word of my involvement reaches anybody..."

Dri'iaxl hadn't been around Sith long, but he was in no way stupid. The implied threat was enough.

He gave a quick bow, and said, "Of course, My Lord."

With a snap of Soren's fingers, Dri'iaxl noticed a couple Sith headed back to where he'd come from.

"The tattoos and dye should finish the job." Soren finished, running his hand critically through Dri'iaxl's uncombed blond hair.

Dri'iaxl nodded, and followed him into the Sith Academy.

Soren led the way through the corridors until they reached the apprentice's quarters.

"Take these." Soren had riffled through another apprentice's chest, and pulled out a set of robes.

Dri'iaxl quickly made the change, and was following Soren to the Training chamber,curious as to how the owner of the clothes felt about the theft.

"When in combat, Dri'iaxl, Emotion has no place. Calm, focused, ice cold. That is how you will win. Hate can be powerful, but it is rarely controlled, leaving your opponent open."

_Three Days later..._

Dri'iaxl stood in the center of the training arena. He held a practice saber, and looked around nervously. The entire room had been darkened, with the exception of the spot he was standing it.

Soren was waiting, just out of sight.

A sound to his left caused him to spin, and lash out wildly.

A sharp pain on his saber arm caused him to drop the blade, and he jumped back, recalling the blade to his other hand.

_Calm_. He told himself, and he reached out with the Force, finding Soren, and leaped forwards, using the Force to send him crashing down, knocking his mentor back a step.

He blocked Soren's counterstrike, and flipped back.

"You learn fast." Soren said, and it was more of a statement than praise. "However, many you are going up against have fought longer and against multiple opponents. Always watch, but _Never_ copy. Take what they have, and improve. I have taught you enough. Go, it would not do for you to be late."

With a quick bow, Dri'iaxl Xanze said, "As you say, My Lord."

Contrary to his former smiling, friendly face and blond hair, his new appearance was a sharp contrast.

Dye had made his hair white, and with the crimson stitches tattooed across his lips, and swiped under his eyes, he had lost the friendliness.

His tan was hidden as well, and his pale blue eyes were even paler.

_I've done well with him_, Soren thought. There was little to tie this boy to the disobedient slave who disappeared.

He watched his newest lackey leave the room and smiled. _Perfect._

Dri'iaxl walked into the room where the hopefuls were meeting.

He was still well muscled from the slave work, but even then, he didn't have the bulk of some of the others.

He, however, had been trained by a Lord, unlike them, and he had worked for many years, giving him the strength that came from mining dawn to dusk, every day.

He sneered at on of the hopefuls, and the small boy moved from where he was sitting.

_It was good to be feared_, Dri'iaxl smiled slightly inside.

On the outside, he remained fairly emotionless, save for mild contempt for the weakness of the hopeful.


End file.
